


I Know How to Move On

by ihavetodothis



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavetodothis/pseuds/ihavetodothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot. Brian has to find a way to deal with Michael's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know How to Move On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [julad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/julad/gifts).



> This is a twist on episode 10, season 5, "I Love You", in which Michael did not recover from the bombing.
    
    
         The worst part of loss is when you realise it doesn’t affect anything. An infinite number of people still swallow the earth with their individual lives, like a scattered cacophony of voices, staggering their breaths so that if one drops, the rest of them will carry on singing. An entire row of singers could be knocked down: the people who die, their families and friends, anyone who had the pleasure of knowing them, or anything about them. But, the meaningless hymn of human life would continue throbbing, the pulse of our world pouring over cracks, looping into itself, never ceasing.  
    
    Brian doesn’t belong in any kind of choir. He’s never felt unified in human emotion or pressured to do anything but what he wanted to do. Looking over this mound of lumpy soil, carefully dignified by a large, grey stone with letters he doesn’t want to read yet, he almost feels as if he’s looking at himself. He can picture Mikey in his place, kneeling at Brian’s tombstone and crying while Ben tried to comfort him: the perfect, Hollywood picture of grief trapping their experiences in a shallow display case. Brian won’t give into that, either. He’s the conductor, not the orchestra. He will follow this loss like dust, clinging onto memories only until someone can wipe him away from them.  
    
    For the first time, he doesn’t worry about grass stains on his designer clothes as he sits in front of the grave. He grabs the tombstone with both hands, his head falling against Mikey’s name and year of death. Something constricts his throat, like someone wrapping coarse rope around it and pulling as hard as possible. After a few minutes of struggling to keep his emotions down, he lets out a small, muffled cry, his hands folding into fists against the hard stone. Tears ride the inner creases of his eyes and plummet to the ground, allowing new ones to do the same.  
    
    If this were Justin, the warmth Brian feels on his shoulder would be Mikey’s uncalloused hand, not the dull, soft yellow ray of an early-morning sun. The fact that Brian is still able to feel the wind crash against him is a sign that he will rise out of this and move on from it as the vibrant flames of their friendship wither into cold, grey embers. He will be able to hold on to old memories instead of the hopeless promise of new ones, and will grow to remind himself that he will never share time with Mikey again.  
    
    He’ll have to get used to dancing alone at Babylon, making toasts only he can drink to, and whispering to music he doesn’t care to sing along with alone.  
    
    But, the music will keep playing, and there will always be a crowd of people who do not feel grief, dancing to find someone, not to forget about someone.


End file.
